Love That I Bear Within My Breast

That Way Of Inspiration Is Always Open, And Open To Everyone; It Acts As Go-between, Interpreter, It Explains Symbols Of The Past In To-day's Imagery.

In My Garden The Winds Have Beaten The Ripe Lilies; In My Garden, The Salt Has Wilted The First Flakes Of Young Narcissus.

No Man Will Be Present In Those Mysteries, Yet All Men Will Kneel, No Man Will Be Potent, Important, Yet All Men Will Feel What It Is To Be A Woman.

Who Dreams Of A Son, Save One, Childless, Having No Bright Face To Flatter Its Own, Who Dreams Of A Son?

Think Of The Moment You Count Most Foul In Your Life; Conjure It, Supplicate, Pray To It; Your Face Is Bleak, You Retract, You Dare Not Remember It.